


Once More with Coffee

by RainbowVigilante



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowVigilante/pseuds/RainbowVigilante
Summary: Barry forgets his morning coffee, and finds himself halfway across town at a crime scene with a dire need for caffeine.  He walks into Caffein8, and is immediately smitten with Cisco, the cute, nerdy barista.  Neither of them know that they have more in common than their taste in movies.Written for brionyjae for Flashvibe Secret Santa 2016!





	1. Triple Shot Latte

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brionyjae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brionyjae/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, brionyjae! I'm your Flashvibe Secret Santa! I'll be posting one chapter of this fic every day until the new year--I hope you like it!
> 
> Relationships tagged are the ones that will be featured in this fic, characters will be tagged as they appear/are mentioned. I will probably adjust the tags as I post each chapter so I don't give anything away (the rating and archive warnings are set for the entire fic). Technically, this is a canon divergence, but the divergence occurs before Barry Allen ever goes to Starling (on Arrow). It will be revealed how much this timeline is different from the show, but all you need to know for now is that the particle accelerator explosion never happened.
> 
> I also didn't really have time to edit this, cause I was working on the other chapters, so I may go back and adjust wording later. For now, please be kind, but... I wouldn't mind some constructive criticism if you think something is really awkward.

“Barry!”

Barry’s head shot up, angling in the direction of the voice. “I’m going! Just--” His bag slipped from his hands and spilled its contents into a puddle. “Just getting everything.”

Eddie frowned. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, yeah,” Barry said, fumbling with his things. “Haven’t had my coffee yet, I’m all over the place.” A file he had been looking through the week before was soaked through. Fantastic.

“If you say so, Barr.” Eddie clapped him on the shoulder as he walked by. “See you back at the precinct.”

“See you,” Barry called after him. Shoveling everything back into his bag, Barry scanned up and down the street looking at shop signs. He really, really needed coffee.

%%%

The bell on the door jingled as Barry entered Caffein8, a small coffee shop he had spotted a block down from the crime scene. One quick look around, and he couldn’t help grinning. Along the walls were the standard small business photos--friends, family, balloons and party decorations present in about half of them--but there were also movie posters (Inception, The Godfather, Jumanji), snarky neon signs, and various bits of geek culture strewn about. In one corner, there was what appeared to be an animatronic owl.

A man with long hair and a blinding smile was waiting at the counter. “Welcome to Caffein8! Can I get something started for you?”

Barry couldn’t quite catch his breath. “Uh, yeah, could I--could I get a latte?” he stammered. “A triple tall, please.”

“That’ll be three-eighty-eight,” the barista said. Barry handed over a few bills, leaving the change and an extra dollar in the tip jar. He tried not to stare, but Barry knew he wasn’t succeeding. The man was wearing a t-shirt--it read “Keep Calm and Han Shot First”--and it fit just a little too tightly. He was also kind of adorable.

“Whole milk?”

Barry’s head snapped up. “What?” The barista was watching him with a raised eyebrow, and holding up a carton of milk. “Oh, y-yeah, whole milk is fine. Sorry, I just--I like your shirt.”

The smile was back, breaking across the barista’s face and making Barry’s knees go weak. “Thanks, man. Oh, I almost forgot, name?”

“Um, Barry.”

“You sure about that?” His laugh was just as dizzying.

“I’m sure,” said Barry, sounding more confident than he felt. As the man turned away from him, Barry leaned against the counter and was intensely grateful he forgot to get coffee that morning.

%%%

Cisco had never given a customer his number before, but right at that moment, he was seriously considering it. Barry, a stringbean of a man, was cute, liked Cisco’s t-shirt, and looked positively edible when he blushed. It was a tough decision. What eventually won out, though, was the simple fact that Cisco didn’t have time to date.

As the owner of Caffein8, Cisco worked ten hours every weekday, and eight on Saturday. If he hadn’t been smart enough--and lucky enough--to hire Jesse, he would have been making coffees seven days a week.

“Cisco!” Speak of the undergrad student. “Something’s wrong with the roaster!” Jesse emerged from the basement with her hair half pulled from her ponytail and what looked like a massive squashed spider on her apron. “Please,” she begged, “switch with me. I hate that thing. I’ll even say Star Trek is better than Star Wars.”

“That’s just a fact, Jesse,” Cisco retorted, setting the latte he was making in front of Barry.

Barry’s lips quirked upward as he watched the exchange. “So you’re a Star Trek fan, too?” he commented. “The duality of man.”

“I’m an enigma.”

“Cisco!”

Right. The roaster. “See you, Barry,” he said, surrendering the front of house to Jesse and making his way to the stairs.

%%%

Barry left Caffein8 with mixed feelings. It was stupid, he knew, to read into their interaction. Baristas were always friendly. It didn’t matter if Cisco’s laugh seemed genuine, or if it made Barry’s heart beat faster--it was better if he let it be. Still, a part of him was kicking himself for not asking Cisco for his number.

Exactly one week went by before Barry found himself trekking across town to Caffein8. He ordered a tall triple shot latte with whole milk and chatted with Cisco about Star Trek. The next week, same coffee, different topic.

“Okay, but why doesn’t Arthur wake up when the van goes off the bridge?” Barry pointed out.

“Because he doesn’t!” Cisco looked about two seconds from tearing his hair out, and Barry was enjoying the red tinge spreading across Cisco’s face. “There are any number of possible reasons for Arthur not reacting to the first kick!”

“It’s a huge plot hole!”

“No it’s--okay, go with me on this,” Cisco argued, “you can resist the kick if you want to. At the beginning of the movie, where Cobb was pushed into the tub, it presented in the dream as if the building was flooding, right? But until the water actually covered him, he didn’t wake up! He probably could have swam away!”

“That’s pretty thin,” Barry said, grinning at Cisco’s wild gesticulating.

“I will jump over this counter,” Cisco warned. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Okay, fine, Arthur resisted the kick despite no one ever, even once, mentioning you can do that.” Barry looked Cisco right in the eye, giving him one moment of victory, before asking, “But why do the kicks later happen on the levels they’re on, not the one below? Ariadne jumps in limbo, then we see her wake up on each level before the kick happens. The fortress goes, then the elevator--”

“If you die in the dream, you wake up--”

“But that’s not what happened! And what about Yusuf’s sedative?”

Cisco opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “I will have to get back to you on that one.”

“Uh huh.” Barry took a slow sip of his coffee.

“You just wait--” There was a gentle chime from the door, and Cisco turned to see a customer approaching the register. “Damn.” He glanced over at Barry, biting his lip. “Continue this next Wednesday?” he asked tentatively.

Barry’s heart skipped a beat, and he struggled to collect himself. “Yeah, I’ll… Yeah! See you next Wednesday.”

%%%

As Cisco watched the clock, his heart sank. It was a quarter past ten. Barry always came in before nine.

It was silly, he knew, to get upset over a regular not coming in for his weekly coffee. Anything could have happened, and Barry wasn’t obligated to come in to talk to Cisco. Still, he had thought they were becoming friends.

At four-thirty in the afternoon, over an hour after he usually left, Cisco finally took off his apron and surrendered the shop to Jesse. He had just made it to the front of house when Barry walked through the door.

“Cisco!” Barry came over to him. He looked like he was about to keel over. “I got called into work at five, there was--I’m not supposed to talk about it, it’s an ongoing investigation, but--”

“Breathe, Barry,” Cisco said, cutting him off. “Deep breath. Then let’s start with, are you okay?”

“No, I--Cisco, did you used to work for Harrison Wells?”

Cisco froze. Out of everything Barry could have said, the name of his former employer had to be what Cisco had least expected. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “I was working at Star Labs when he got arrested. I heard he was convicted of murder, I--I never really wanted to know the details. Why?”

Barry quickly glanced over the empty shop, then nodded at a table in the back. “Can we sit down? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Barry… what’s going on?” asked Cisco.

There was a indecipherable look in Barry’s eye when he said, “Harrison Wells broke out of prison this morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time--things will happen! There will probably be at least one flashback! Someone gives someone a phone number! Editing will be more of a thing!


	2. Conversations Over Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My internet was acting up last night, so this is the first of two chapters I'll post today!
> 
> Now, time for a bit of backstory.

\- TEN MONTHS AGO -

The numbers weren’t adding up. Hartley had brought up his concerns before, but considering Dr. Wells had blown him off three times running, he was beginning to think there was more to Harrison’s denial than simple negligence. He ran simulation after simulation, and Hartley could only come to one conclusion:

The particle accelerator had been specifically designed for catastrophic failure.

It had to be Harrison; no one else could have pulled it off. That being said, Hartley didn’t know who he could go to. The employees at Star Labs were completely devoted to Harrison Wells, and up until a few days ago, Hartley was the most loyal of the bunch. Now that he had looked behind the curtain, there was no one he could trust.

Hartley knew he couldn’t confront Harrison. Not only would he be blacklisted from every scientific facility in the Northern hemisphere, but if Dr. Wells really did plan the explosion that was certain to occur, there was no way to know what lengths he would go to if he was threatened. What Hartley really needed was evidence.

He waited until the Nevada Advancements in Physics conference that weekend. Harrison Wells was speaking both days, leaving his office empty and locked so no one would go inside. All Hartley had to do was wait until no one was looking, disable the lock, slip inside, and turn off the alarm with a code he had seen Harrison enter about fifty times. It was shockingly easy. If it wasn’t to his advantage, Hartley would suggest that Star Labs update their security measures.

The computer was accessed without trouble as, like with the alarm, Hartley had seen his mentor enter the password often during their time working together. There were benefits to being, in Ramon’s words, an obnoxious kiss ass. Hartley sifted through files upon files, unsure what he was searching for. Then he noticed a shortcut labelled “vault_remotesv”. An encryption program, maybe? Hartley opened it.

Oh God.

Up on the screen were four frames, each with a different live video feed. They showed inside someone’s apartment. There was a view of a living room, a kitchen, one camera was aimed at the front door, and the final frame was of a bedroom. In the bed was a young man, about Hartley’s age, sleeping. It seemed unlikely that he was aware of being watched.

There were two more cameras inside a house Hartley didn’t recognize, one of a driveway, and several showing parts of the Central City Police Department, in addition to all the security cameras already in Star Labs. Hartley went back to the first screen and examined the file title. “B_allen” could be the man’s name. The next step was to find him.

%%%

“Detective West?”

Joe set down his coffee, and turned to regard a nervous young man in glasses. “Can I help you, son?”

“I’m Hartley Rathaway,” he said. There was a determined set to his jaw as he continued, “You’re Detective Joe West? Barry Allen’s foster father?”

“That’s right,” Joe replied, frowning. “Did something happen? Is Barry okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine, but…” The kid, Hartley, looked around the station warily. “Can we talk somewhere else? My boss--he could see me, and he can’t know I’m here.”

Hartley’s words set Joe on high alert. “Sure thing, kid,” he said with false casualness, grabbing his jacket. “Let’s go to the diner across the street.” Hartley nodded, and followed Joe out of the station.

%%%

“...and I deleted the footage of me breaking into his office, but he could have backups, and I don’t know where the server is.” Joe and Hartley were in a back booth of the diner, huddled around a laptop displaying a recording of Barry’s apartment. Hartley had told him there were months of footage, maybe years, and Joe’s blood ran cold. There was a man stalking his son.

“It doesn’t matter where the server is, we’ll find it,” Joe assured Hartley, only to receive an incredulous look.

“You think I didn’t search the entire goddamn building?” he asked, nearly spilling the coffee he hadn’t touched. “Wherever he’s hidden it, I can’t find it. And unless I find it, even if you take his computer, he could shut the whole thing down remotely. And… there’s more.” Hartley clicked on another file and brought up a series of documents. “He has extensive information on Barry, and his family, dating back to not long before Nora Allen was killed.”

Joe’s eyes widened, concern written on his face. “You don’t think--”

“I don’t know!” Hartley shouted, drawing attention from the other diners. He continued, quieter, “I didn’t think he would sabotage his own particle accelerator, or that he would set up illegal surveillance in the CCPD, and yet--” He waved his hand at the screen.

Joe was silent for a moment, then looked right at Hartley. “If we got him on camera admitting to the surveillance, we could bring him in. We would have time to find the server and build a case.”

“I could get him to say it,” Hartley said. “I could confront him, get him talking--”

“Hartley.” Joe cut him off, holding a hand in the air in front of him. “I’m not going to talk you out of it. He’s stalking my kid. But you said he may have already seen you break into his office, and if he’s watching the station, he may be expecting something like this. You could be putting yourself in danger for nothing.”

“Maybe,” Hartley allowed, “but he’s in Nevada for a conference. He probably wouldn’t risk accessing the feed from outside Star Labs. If I wait for him after he flies in on Monday, there’s a good chance he won’t see it coming.”

Joe watched him carefully, then nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go talk to a judge. We have to do this right.”

%%%

Harrison Wells walked through Star Labs with a confidence like--well, like he owned it. “Good evening, Hartley,” he called out. “Working late again? I assure you, despite a few road bumps, the accelerator will be ready in time. You should get some sleep.”

Hartley blocked Dr. Wells’ path. Joe’s voice in his ear reminded him to be diplomatic, start slowly, but he couldn’t do it. This man had used Hartley’s work to create a bomb in the middle of Central City. He had betrayed the trust, the faith, that Hartley had put in him and done God only knows what else. “Why are you watching Barry Allen?” he asked harshly.

Harrison went completely still. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice was soft, but sounded dangerous. Hartley felt a chill go up his spine. “Who is Barry Allen?”

“I saw the videos,” Hartley told him. “There’s one in his fucking bedroom. And then there’s all the information you’ve gathered about him, about his mother--did you kill her, by the way? Or is it just a coincidence that you started following Barry right before she died?”

“Hartley--”

“I don’t know why, and I don’t care,” Hartley spat, stomach turning. “You’re a murderer, aren’t you? Fuck, Harrison, deny it. Please, deny it!”

“Oh, Hartley,” Harrison said sadly, “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. I’ve come to rely on you.” He stepped closer. “But then, you’ve always liked interfering, asking questions--it’s no surprise that you couldn’t keep your curiosity to yourself.” An ugly smirk crept across his face, and he continued his approach, backing Hartley into a corner. “Yes, Hartley, I did kill Nora Allen.” He didn’t know why, but Hartley felt an alarm go off in his brain as he watched Dr. Wells raise his arm, hand flat, up into the air. “It’s a shame, but it looks like I’m going to have to kill you too.” Hartley scrambled away from him--

The doors burst open. Police led by Joe West flooded the room, surrounding Dr. Wells before he could take another step forward. “Harrison Wells!” Detective West yelled. “You are under arrest for the murder of Nora Allen. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say--”

Hartley stopped listening. He leaned his back up against the wall, and slid down to the floor, arms curled around his knees. The room was spinning, but he had done it--the particle accelerator wouldn’t be turned on. Harrison Wells would be convicted, and put in prison. It was over.

%%%

\- TEN MONTHS LATER -

Cisco squeezed his mug, about two seconds from spilling his coffee all over the table. “I had no idea Hartley did all that,” he admitted. “God, are you--I didn’t--I can’t believe--”

“I know,” said Barry. “Me neither. He had cameras all over my apartment, it was like--”

“A nightmare.”

“Yeah, it--it was.” Barry didn’t look Cisco directly in the eye, curling in on himself. “He killed my mom, and then he… I moved to a different building, and Joe swept the station and the house, but now--now he’s out, and Cisco, there’s… something else.” The fear in Barry’s eyes made Cisco want to reach out to him, to comfort him somehow, but he didn’t know how. “But I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

“I’ll believe you, Barry,” assured Cisco.

“No, you don’t--” Barry’s cradled his head in his hands, shoulders slumped. “It sounds crazy. I know it sounds crazy, you’ll--I don’t want you to--”

“Barry!” Cisco couldn’t help himself, he grabbed Barry’s hands and made him look up at him. “Whatever it is, you clearly feel like you have to tell me. I’m not going to judge you, or call you crazy.”

“I…” Barry took a deep breath. “I was there the night my mother died.”

“Oh, Barry--”

“No, Cisco, that’s--that’s not what I need to tell you,” Barry said. Cisco could hear the desperation in Barry’s voice, and it was heartbreaking. “The man that night, no one believed me, but I know what I saw. He was just a blur, Cisco, he was so fast. And there was lightning, it was like--it was like he wasn’t human.”

“What do you--”

“I think…” Barry’s expression changed subtly, determined as well as scared. “I think he has some kind of superpowers. I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I can’t explain it, but--”

“Lightning!” Cisco exclaimed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to cut you off, but if he was travelling at high speeds, the friction--”

“Exactly!” agreed Barry, leaning in. “So you believe me?”

“I… yeah, I think I do.” Cisco was just as surprised as Barry looked, if he was being honest. “But--Barry, if he escaped--”

“I know.” Neither of them said anything more. They sat at their table, holding hands, in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm realizing I didn't actually write them exchanging numbers in this chapter. That's next chapter. Oops.
> 
> I'll post the next chapter later tonight! Let me know if there are places you think need work, but please criticize constructively!


	3. Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: I edited the beginning of chapter 1 slightly, because there were parts I forgot to change from the first draft. Barry and Eddie know each other very well, and even at work, Eddie wouldn't call Barry "Allen". Sorry for any confusion!

Barry let out a long, shaky breath and gave Cisco a wry smile. “Sorry for dumping this all on you. I know we barely know each other, I just--I heard you used to work for Dr. Wells and--I’m not sure what--”

“I’m glad you told me, Barry,” Cisco reassured him. “And--look, I don’t know that much about… what he did. But if you need help figuring this out--”

“I appreciate that.” Barry leaned back and ran his hands through his hair. He looked exhausted. “I may take you up on that because... I don’t even know where to begin. On the plus side, I doubt he’s sticking around town; he’s probably halfway across the country by now. But more than anything,” Barry looked at him with a sort of softness that took Cisco by surprise, “thank you for listening. I know this is all pretty… heavy.”

That was a bit of an understatement. “Yeah, the tragic backstory is more a second date kinda thing.”

It was an awful joke, but it made Barry’s face turn bright red. “I--uh--” Cisco couldn’t help grinning at how flustered Barry looked. “I--I mean--” He laughed a little, and it was so painfully awkward, but charming.

“Relax, Barry,” said Cisco, taking pity on him.

“Right, I, um,” Barry stammered, struggling to collect himself. “I was going to--to give you my number. For if you hear anything about where Dr. Wells is. Or, you know,” he shrugged, “if you want to argue about movies, or whatever.”

Cisco raised an eyebrow. ““I’ll have you know I basically have a dissertation on Inception prepared. I’m kind of a lucid dreaming expert now--”

“Cisco,” Barry cut him off, “the kicks didn’t make sense. You can’t talk your way out of this one--”

“Ha, no, I think you’ll find I can. I have a PowerPoint. With visuals. Face it, bro, you cannot defeat me. Movies are my wheelhouse--”

“Uh huh, you talk the talk, but I’m going to have to see this PowerPoint--”

%%%

Walking to Joe’s house, Barry found himself unable to stop smiling. His mother’s killer had escaped from prison, the police had no idea how, had no leads on where he might be headed, and yet a part of Barry was infatuated to distraction. He felt giddy! For the first time since Dr. Wells’ trial, Barry didn’t feel afraid. It was a relief he didn’t know he’d needed.

It wouldn’t last. As he approached the front door, Barry steeled himself for the onslaught of worry and emotion. Iris and Eddie were coming over for a family dinner, too, so he knew everything would be multiplied by three.

Sure enough, Joe called out, “Barry! We want to talk to you about something,” as soon as he opened the door.

Barry set down the cheesecake he had bought on the way over. “What’s up?” he asked, trying to act casual. Joe was sitting in the living room, with Eddie in the chair next to him and Iris perched on Eddie’s lap.

“Dad and Eddie and I were talking,” Iris began, “and we think maybe you should stay here until they find Harrison Wells.” She watched Barry carefully to gauge his reaction. “We’re not trying to gang up on you--”

“But we’d all feel better with you here,” Joe finished for her. “It’s your decision, but your apartment isn’t exactly close by, and it’d be safer for you to stay in a house with a police officer. Two police officers, actually.” He gestured in Eddie’s direction. “Eddie’s agreed to stay here too; he can sleep in the guest room.” At this, Iris rolled her eyes, and Barry could barely keep from laughing. Eddie gave them both pointed and vaguely nervous looks. Apparently, his girlfriend’s father still intimidated him.

“Guys,” Barry said, trying to come up with the right words. “I get why, but he had--there were cameras in the house. I’ve moved twice since he was arrested, and I doubt he’s been able to keep tabs on me from prison.”

“We could post a patrol car outside the building,” Eddie suggested.

Barry was grateful for the support, however, “Thanks, Eddie, but that would probably just draw attention.”

“Still, you shouldn’t be alone,” said Iris. “Maybe you could stay at Eddie’s--”

“Yeah, it could be fun! Plus, the sofa pulls out--”

“I could stay with you,” Joe cuts in. “Just for a few nights.”

“I appreciate it, but no.” Barry words were firm, his hands held in front of him. “We can talk about it more tomorrow, but there’s no reason to think he knows where I live, even if he is still in town. I just want to sleep in my own bed, in my own apartment, and pretend everything’s normal. Okay?”

“Okay.” Joe looked unhappy, but resigned, which meant Barry had won for now. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

“Can we just have dinner?” Barry pleaded.

“I think that’s a great idea,” said Iris, gracefully sliding off Eddie’s lap. “Come help me set the table.” She linked her arm through Barry’s and pulled him toward the kitchen.

“Hold on, I brought dessert, what did you do?” teased Barry.

“I brought my sparkling personality. Besides,” Iris smirked, raising her voice loud enough to be heard in the living room, “you can take this opportunity to tell me how things are going with your cute barista!”

“Oh, come on! Seriously?”

%%%

Cisco stared at his phone before setting it down on his bedside table. It would be weird to text Barry so soon, right? It wasn’t like he gave Cisco his number to flirt, except maybe he had, but it was somewhat overshadowed by how he had been asking for information on Cisco’s old boss, who also murdered Barry’s mother, and--when had Cisco’s life gotten so complicated?

The obvious answer to that was, of course, the second Dr. Wells had been arrested. All of Cisco’s hard work, the revenue from patents on inventions that he created, had been going toward some supervillain-esque plot to destroy Central City. After that, he didn’t trust anyone to have control over his work. How that translated to coffee shop eluded even Cisco. He joked that it was because he couldn’t get a decent cup of coffee anywhere else in Central, but it really came down to wanting to build something for himself. Well, that, and Cisco really liked coffee.

His phone buzzed, and Cisco lunged for it, nearly hurdling himself off the bed. Oh. It was from Caitlin.

[Caitlin Snow: Did you hear?]

[Cisco Ramon: about the prison break?]  
[Cisco Ramon: yeah]

[Caitlin Snow: I meant about Hartley.]

[Cisco Ramon: ????? what happened??]

[Caitlin Snow: He went missing this afternoon.]

“Shit,” Cisco hissed, rolling out of bed and running to his computer. He brought up the Central City Picture News site, clicking on the second article down:

S.T.A.R. WHISTLEBLOWER DISAPPEARS FROM MERCURY LABS

“Mother--” According to the article, Hartley Rathaway was seen on security footage going into a secure area, and he never came out. It reported that shortly before he was reported missing, the feed had been corrupted due to an electrical disturbance.

Cisco quickly sent Barry a link to the article, followed by--

[+15735550167: have you seen this??????!!!!!!]

%%%

Barry felt his phone vibrate as he walked up the stairs to his apartment, and grinned when he saw an unknown number had texted him a link. It had to be Cisco. Barry was about to open it when he opened his door and something caught his eye. There was an envelope on the small table where he usually put his keys. It was blank, and Barry opened it as he shut the door behind him, assuming it was from the super. His hot water had been acting up a lot lately--oh. It wasn’t from the superintendent.

He felt sick. There was no mistaking who it was from:

_Mr. Allen,_

_I suppose you thought I wouldn’t track you down so easily. I would like to disabuse you of that notion._

_There is no need for concern, Mr. Allen. I have no intention to harm you in any way. Fortunately for you, I have more pressing matters to attend to, and you still have a role to play._

_This will not be the last you hear from me._

Barry refolded the letter, replaced it in its envelope, and pocketed it. He took a moment to calm down. Then he got moving.

After a quick inventory, it didn’t appear as if anything in the apartment had been disturbed. Barry knew, though, that he wouldn’t find the cameras--if there were any--on his own. He went into his bedroom and began packing essentials--a couple changes of clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, and a few books that had been living beside his bed for the last ten months. When Barry had gathered everything he needed and was out the door, he dialed Joe’s number on his phone.

“Joe? I’ll meet you at the station, he--he was in my apartment.” He kept putting one foot in front of the other. “No--Joe, stop. He wasn’t there, but he left a letter. ...No, I’m going straight to the station. I packed an overnight bag, I’ll sleep in the lab, or find a couch or--yeah, I’m on my way. See you there.”

%%%

When Hartley woke up, it was dark. Only the faintest light trickled down from the closed hatch above him. Hartley pulled at the restraints around his wrists, repressing a shudder. It was wet, and cold, and he recognized instantly where he was--the particle accelerator. An offshoot of a maintenance tunnel, Hartley remembered working overtime down in the tunnels as Harrison--Dr. Wells--pushed the timetable again and again. At the time, he was annoyed at having to work all day long with Ronald, Caitlin’s fiance, who refused to ever order in food that wasn’t pizza. Now, Hartley just hoped he wouldn’t die down in the depths of a monument to his naivete.

He flinched as the hatch creaked open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to post this yesterday, but I realized I wanted to change around a few things that I didn't have time to mess earlier. So these will keep coming out every day, and brionyjae, it looks like you're going to get an update on New Year's Day! Or, more accurately, January 2nd. Because time differences.


End file.
